


Acquiring Miss French

by VeniVediVici



Series: Futuristic OUAT [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeniVediVici/pseuds/VeniVediVici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A futuristic world where slavery and debts are the name of the game. Rum Gold is the wealthiest man and hates slavery, so when Belle French is offered as a way out of debt, he is flustered.</p>
<p>I just write what almostvivian approved of, since she's the creator of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acquiring Miss French

Rum Gold considered himself an even-tempered man when it came to dealing with the local slavers and their business; he dealt with them every day and throughout it all, he never felt more rage towards them and their ilk than he did at this very moment, nonetheless, he still hated them more than life itself. They’d cost him what he’d held dear to his heart, but that was then and this was now, where he was the most powerful man in all of Märchenbuch. His was the tallest skyscraper and he lived in the cleanest section of the sprawling city, which meant a lot more than his neighborhood was simply clean. Cleanliness meant that you had money to spare and wanted for nothing.

“She’s a very beautiful woman, is she not?” The fattest of the slavers said as he shook the girl whose arm he was holding at Gold, his expression showing the absolute desperation that he felt inside. The two men standing before him were dirty, filthy men in more than just mere appearance; their lives were owned and for the rest of their lives this would continue unless they paid off their considerable debt to whomever they owned, Rum chief among them. That was why they were here after all: to lessen the debt they owed to him.

And their bribe? A young woman who apparently was on her way to a slaver’s auction—they held them every Thursday in a different warehouse—dressed in a gold metal bikini top with a rose pattern painted onto the cups with thin lengths of gold dipping down her chest and reaching behind her back; the same roses held up thin swatches of bright yellow silk that swept the floor and left little to the imagination. Elaborate links wrapped themselves in vines around her calves and the arm bands around her upper arms. To finish off this vulgar ensemble was a small tiara pinned into her hair and what appeared to be a large, extremely heavy slave’s collar that was really too beautiful considering its purpose. “We got her off of Gaston.”

Gaston, one of the more wealthy slavers; he owed quite a fortune to Gold and to the Whites as well, though no one quite knew how he was able to make his money so fast and how it seemed to vanish into thin air. Well, that was quite the story.

“Who is she exactly?” Rum said, his hands forming a steeple; he was already forming plans for what to do with the girl standing before him. He didn’t keep slaves at all, rather, he chose to instead allow them to pay off their debt and earn complete freedom by working at his home or in his various business ventures.

“Moe French’s daughter,” The skinny one blurted out; he was a nervous, twitchy sort of fellow. A drug user, according to the file Gold had on him. He had files on every single person who owed him money.

“Moe French, unreliable man, as I’ve found him to be.” Rum laid his hands calmly down onto his lap. “That would make her Belle French, young, beautiful daughter to a man failing in both business and life. How did you come to…acquire Miss French?”

“He sold her to us. Needed the money to pay off a debt he owes to the younger Miss Mills.”

“Ah, Regina, she’s a rather shrewd person to deal with. Trust me.”

“That’s why we brought her to you!” The fat, stupid one said, grinning away like what he was holding on to wasn’t a woman and what he was immersed in wasn’t the most disgusting, vile thing on the planet. “To, uh, lessen our debt?”

“Oh, is that what you were planning?” They’d be horrified to learn that he had plans for them himself. Rum Gold dealt with slaves in a calm manner on a daily basis, but there were always…unfortunate accidents that occurred hours, days, even weeks after they left his office. He had nothing to do with it, of course. That wouldn’t be fitting for a businessman to sully his hands with the blood of vile creatures such as these.

“Yes, Mr. Gold. Won’t you take her and put what she’s worth towards our debt?” The second slaver—Jamie, Jimmy, whatever—said, looking worried, and as well he should be looking.

The girl had been surprisingly quiet during the whole exchange, choosing to instead glare at Rum. There was fire in those beautiful blue eyes of hers, and it spoke of the courage she must have had to endure the whole kidnapping process. Perhaps he might let this one work off her debt as well, or her father’s debt rather.

“And if I don’t buy her off of you? What will you do with her then?” He knew the answer as well as they did. She would be brought to a slaver’s auction and sold off to the highest bidder. Rum just wanted to hear the men say it themselves. It would give him a true reason to go ahead with what he had planned for them.

“Mr. Jones is the one who’ll probably buy her, that’s what Gaston said.”

“Jones, as in Killian Jones? Owner of nearly a dozen brothels across Storybrooke and one of the biggest slave traders in the business?” The two men nodded dumbly, still not seeing that they were putting the nooses around their own necks. “I see, well, Killian owes me a debt he can never repay, as you owe me, so I’ll take this girl off of your hands and put it towards your debt. Does this sound agreeable?”

“Yes, Mr. Gold,” The skinny one said, his bony, weasel face filling with relief. “That sounds great.”

“Well then,” He said, spreading his arms out wide. “Then we have an agreement. I’ll have my accountant deduct this girl from both of your debts.”

Rum smiled politely at the two men whose appearance seemed to have had ten years shaved off; their worried brows were not as wrinkled and glittering eyes stared back at him. It almost seemed a shame to well…take care of them as he normally took care of people like them. But they were slavers nevertheless and he hated nothing more than people who dealt in the buying of other people.

Not ten minutes later, the two men had left Rum’s office, thanking him profusely as they went. He shut the door behind the idiots and just stood there, resting his hands against the gilded gold handles. It was a very strange feeling to be intimidated by a little slip of a woman, but she was barely clothed. The idea behind a slaver’s auction was to have the slave clad in scraps of a precious metal, silk or lace, emphasizing the features most desirable for a slaver: rounded hips and full breasts on a woman, or the narrow hips and slim shape of a man.

It may have been many years since Rum Gold had indulged himself in the pleasures that a beautiful woman could bring, but he was still a man with all of the needs a man has.

“I take it that they didn’t hurt you too severely, then?” If they had, she would be covered from head to foot in fresh purple bruises. He did note that her wrists were raw and bloody. Well, that was an easy enough matter to deal with. He’d have that weak-willed doctor take a look at her. “All right, so legally you belong to me now.” He strode back towards his desk, purposefully keeping his eyes away from her scantily clad body.

“I guess so.” She murmured.

“There’s no guessing about it; it’s legal, but what separates me from those slavers is that I don’t sell people for profit, and I most certainly don’t keep slaves.” Rum said, reclining in his deep-seated leather chair.

“But…”

“I abhor the institution of slavery. Let me make that perfectly clear. I don’t buy slaves from slavers just so that I can use them for my own personal use; what I do is allow those I buy to work off the debt they owe. I’m the most powerful man in all of Märchenbuch, Miss French, which brings with it a few perks. Everyone has a debt they owe in this city, and I make it my business to know how much my associates or anyone who wishes to do business owes. That’s why those two brought you to me,” He said, waving towards the door. “To lessen what they owe me, you see, but I’m not going to do that, Miss French.”

Belle French’s delicate eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

He chuckled softly to himself; he knew her reputation was that of a smart, successful woman who was very much unlike her father, so Rum dismissed this momentary lapse of common sense to being in shock. “I told you already: I despise slavers and all they stand for. Those men are disgusting, putrid abominations and should be dealt with as soon as possible.”

“You mean…”

“Never mind what I meant. So long as you’re in my service, you’ll be dressed more…appropriate to what a young lady should be wearing, not those rags they put you in. You’ll be my personal maid; bringing me tea and my meals when I’m working. I’m not going to abuse you in any way, Miss French, trust me on that. I’m a man of integrity with an immense amount of respect towards women, certain business associates excluded. Someday you’ll be free, I promise you.”

Rum dared a glance into Belle French’s eyes. Her bright, shining eyes were surrounded by thick brown eyelashes that were curled and a thin layer of shimmering silver powder that emphasized the rich sea blue.

He broke eye contact and touched a button that lit up the top of his massive oak desk; Belle’s eyes widened. Touch pad desks weren’t a rare commodity in Märchenbuch if one was one of the top 1% percentiles; Moe French was decidedly not one of those lucky few, so Rum supposed that it was most likely the first time she’d seen such a thing as this. “I’m calling up my own personal physician. His name is Hopper; he’ll look you over and determine the damage those ruffians lay onto you. He may even decide a future psychological visit is in order.”

“Why?” She asked softly; there was an accent that Rum hadn’t noticed before to the girl’s voice. A slight twang or perhaps a lilting musical note that caused Belle French to stand out amongst the average, usually drug-addled voices he heard every day. It was quite literally music to his ears.

The question, however, was enough of a shock to cause Rum Gold to stop tapping out a message requiring the doctor’s assistance and look up at Belle.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t…I don’t need a doctor.” Her delicate fingers picked at a loose golden thread hanging off of her immodest “skirt.”

Rum observed the brave young woman who was desperately trying to keep a strong front, appear unbothered by the events that had come to pass, and was oddly impressed by it. He knew countless families and business associates who were incredibly sensitive and believed that he couldn’t know that, and none of them ever appeared as strong as this wisp standing before him.

Allowing himself one more indulgent moment of gazing upon her form, he turned his attention back on what he was doing previously. Once the message to Dr. Hopper was sent out, he summoned one of the former slaves who’d been serving him the longest; a tall, slender man whose wiry frame belied his unique strength beneath the surface. He called himself Jefferson, a relatively unusual name taken from the pages of a book he read during his…service with another, prominent family: The Mills, a group of tempestuous women with ruthless hearts of cold darkness. Born into their service a short while after the eldest Mills woman—Cora Mills—first came into power through the art of political marriages; he was systematically abused and tortured at their hands. Jefferson claimed that he was unable to perform his duties properly and most likely deserved it.

Despite these peculiarities, the man was a good servant and well on his way to paying off his debt. Whether he would leave once that debt was paid, Rum was uncertain about that. Jefferson worked primarily with clothing the new servants acquired through various deals, showing them the way the house was operated and staying out of sight. He bore the scars of serving the Mills family all over his body, making him the object of scorn and disgust even by those serving Rum Gold.

Jefferson stood at attention, not sparing even a glance at the newest member of the household. “What have you requested me for, sir? The servants’ outfits have been hemmed and mended; the foyer swept, mopped and polished to the shine you prefer, and Mrs. White’s appointment has been scheduled for the future.”

Rum raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t ask you to do the latter.”

“Yes, I know that, sir. It needed to be done, and there was no one else around at the moment. Forgive if I have stepped out of line.”

“No, no,” He said, waving away the apology. “Forget about that. This here is Belle French; I’ve recently acquired her from some slavers who will need to be dealt with, remember that, will you? She’s to be working off her debt as well. Find her some suitable attire and situate her in a room nearest to this office.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And have Hopper see to her injuries—check her over—when you’ve done all of that. I’m far too busy to see to it myself.”

“Of course, sir. Come along, Miss French. I’ll show you to your room.” Jefferson politely took Belle French’s arm and led her out of the room, her barely clothed behind swaying sinfully as if to mock Rum Gold. He clenched his fist closed and then opened it; Rum squeezed his eyes shut, as though that was enough to banish all of the dark memories that were seeping out into his mind. But it didn’t work, which wasn’t an unexpected surprise.

It was always like this. Always.


End file.
